NAILED (18 page)

Gary ignored his wife’s gaze. “I have no idea who the hell was in the hall last night. Probably someone looking to rob the place. We do have a doctor’s office in the building. Maybe they thought they could find some drugs.”

Gail nodded. “That’s right. There’s that psychiatrist’s office on the second floor. I would imagine he might have drugs on hand, or at least a prescription pad a robber might want.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to go lie down for a bit.” Gary got up, kissed his wife lightly on the cheek, and went into the house.

“I best get going as well.” I started to get up, but Gail stopped me.

“Alex, if you find out anything during the course of your investigation that could shed a less than glowing light on my husband, would you do me the kindness of letting me know? I do have a business image to protect.”

“Is that all? I got the impression that you might have some idea of who attacked your husband.”

Gail sat back in her wicker chair and sipped on her tea before answering. “No, I don’t know who attacked my husband, but I see things. I’m much older than Gary, and when men get to a certain age, they like the young ones, don’t they? I know my husband has, shall we say, a wandering eye. I’ve looked the other way telling myself that boys will be boys. I know he had a thing for Jenna Sanjari. She was a beautiful woman and kind and smart. I understood Gary’s desire, but luckily for me, she didn’t feel the same way about my husband, so I let him have his harmless little fantasy. But lately he’s been paying quite a bit of attention to a woman at our country club. Her husband doesn’t like it.”

“And you think he’s the person who attacked Gary?”

Gail ran a finger down the glass, letting the condensation drip onto her pants. “Probably not. He doesn’t really seem the type. Though he could have hired someone, I suppose.” She put the glass down and stood up. “I should let you go. You will keep me informed if you find out who did this to my husband?”

“Of course. And here’s my card if you think of anything at all that might help catch Victor’s killer.”

As long as I was in the neighborhood, I decided to stop at
Whole Foods
and pick up some things for a salad and find something for dinner. Salmon sounded good, but it was too hot to turn on the oven and I didn’t like it grilled.

I started in the produce section choosing a couple of tomatoes and an avocado before moving over to the salad greens. While I debated between kale, spinach, or arugula, I thought back to my conversation with the Hachmeisters. I found it interesting that Gail had had Gary checked out prior to marrying him. I guess when lots of money is involved you have to cover all bases. I would never have that problem. At least I could be secure in knowing that John didn’t marry me for my money.

I had too much on my mind to be able to make a decision on what kind of lettuce I wanted, so instead I made it easy and picked up a bag of mixed greens. I added a few more things to my cart from the produce section, including a watermelon, and headed toward the back where there was an assortment of already prepared items, while I continued thinking about Gail Hachmeister. If she had at one time hired a private detective to look into her husband’s background, there was a good chance that she would resort to the same method if she felt something amiss in their marriage. And with Gary’s wandering eye, I would imagine things were amiss quite often. I wondered if there was some national database of PIs were they stored the dirt they dug up on various individuals? I would have to ask Shirley.

I also found it interesting that Gail stayed with Gary knowing full well about his numerous dalliances. And what about Jenna? Victor may not have hit her, but he had no problem grabbing her and pushing her around, and yet she put up with it. Maybe having a husband who arrested my sister and wanted to question my brother-in-law for murder wasn’t so bad. At least I always knew what he was up to.

I found some fresh made baked polenta in a tomato sauce and filled a small container. Then I moved on to some Asian noodles and little spare ribs. I picked out a couple more things to round out my buffet, and then headed for the checkout line. I was eating an awful lot of sandwiches and prepared food lately, and couldn’t wait until the weather cooled down and I could make a big pot of stew or bake a roast.

After paying for my groceries I headed my car back to the turnpike, but made a split second decision and instead turned towards Shirley’s house.

“Do you mind if I put my stuff in your refrigerator?” I asked Shirley twenty minutes later.

She held the front door open while my groceries and I entered her cool house.

“No problem. I’m telling you, I’m going to do it,” Shirley said, as she led me back to her kitchen. “I think a sun room right off of here would be wonderful. I could sit here in the morning and look out on my kingdom.” Shirley looked off into her backyard.

I had discovered a few months ago that Shirley was an avid gardener. As many times as I had been in her house, I had never seen the backyard. It was stunning. Lush and full of flowering plants, cobblestone paths, and a bird bath.

“Wow! If my yard looked like this I’d want to stare at it all day, too.”

“I just want a little sun room. Nothing too big. What do you think, shall we go see Ms. Cavanaugh tomorrow?”

“I’m game.”

“Good. Lemonade?”

“Yes, please.”

“What have you been up to today?” Shirley asked, while she poured our drinks and then put some crackers and slices of cheese on a plate.

We carried it all into the living room and sat down.

“I was over at the Hachmeisters’ home. Gary was attacked last night.”

“Really? Do they know who did it?”

I shook my head. “Nope. But the wife is interesting. She’s always known about his hidden past. She had him checked out before she married him. By the way, is there some sort of private investigator database or forum where you share all the dirt you find out about the people you’ve been hired to follow?”

Shirley smiled. “You’re thinking of the FBI. They keep all the dirt they find in a special database. Why do you ask?”

“I’m just wondering if Gail Hachmeister has continued her surveillance of her husband all these years. How can I find out?”

“If you find the PI she used, he probably wouldn’t talk to you, and most likely he would let Mrs. Hachmeister know you were sniffing around. They live in Fairfield. Let me see if I can find out who she used. A couple of people come to mind. Alex, I can almost hear the gears grinding in your head. What are you thinking?”

“If she’s been keeping an eye on him all this time, then she would know what he and Victor were up to with the illegal workers. She knew about their past troubles. What if she had enough of Victor leading her husband astray and killed him?”

“And then attacked her husband last night?”

“Well, as it turns out,” I said while munching on a cracker, “she wasn’t home. Gary said she was at some event. I never questioned her, but how hard would it be to leave early and drive by her husband’s office? She sees his car and sneaks in. Of course, his getting attacked could simply be a coincidence. But Gail would have a key to the building. I assume it must be locked after a certain hour and surely on weekends. John didn’t mention a broken lock or anything. I’ll have to ask him how the person got into the building.”

Shirley gave me a crooked smile—one side of her mouth sloped down in a frown and the other side in a smirk. “And do you really believe in coincidences?”

“No, I suppose not. Okay, so the same person for both things. And here’s another question. Was the attack on Gary meant to be just that, an attack, or would the perpetrator have killed him if the man from the other office hadn’t come out?”

“Hmm. I have no idea.”

“I don’t either, but my suspects list is growing by leaps and bounds.”

“Go home, give your brain a rest, and leave the murder alone for a while. Tomorrow morning we’re going to see if we can get to the bottom of what the heck your brother-in-law is up to.”

I took Shirley’s advice and went home. I changed my clothes, looked at the newspaper, and had just started on a salad when John walked in the back door.

“Need any help?” he asked.

“Nope. We’re just having the salad, an assortment of things I picked up that don’t go together, and watermelon for dessert. I know, kind of weird, but who wants to cook?”

“It sounds great and I’m starved. Just let me go upstairs and change my clothes.”

Ten minutes later we sat down at the kitchen table. John put several pieces of the spare ribs on my plate, and then took some for himself. I reached for a large chunk of the polenta and took a bite. It was wonderful. I needed to try this recipe.

“I finally talked to Michael today.”

I stopped my fork midway to my mouth and put it back down. “You did! So, tell me. What the hell has he been up to?”

“He wouldn’t tell me. I stopped by their house and Michael and I went out for a coffee. I asked him where he was on the night Victor Sanjari was killed. I told him that we knew he wasn’t at the office.”

“John, you didn’t tell him that Sam’s been spying on him, did you?”

“No. I tried to keep your sister out of the conversation. I figure that’s their personal business, but I did want to know where he was.”

“And where was he?”

“He wouldn’t tell me. All he said is that he was nowhere near Victor Sanjari, thought the guy was an ass, but would certainly never kill the man. He said that he and Sam had decided to give Victor a mourning period and then they would speak to him about Moshi’s behavior toward Kendall if it continued. And that was it. All he said is that he couldn’t talk about where he was or what he’s been up to, but he didn’t seem upset about anything either.”

I hit my hand on the table. “What the heck hell, John? Are you going to arrest him or at least take him into the station and intimidate the hell out of him?”

John laughed. “No. I don’t know what the man is up to, but I’m certain he didn’t kill Victor Sanjari.”

I felt like making a snide comment about how John had no problem hauling my sister into the station in front of everyone, but we were getting along and I was tired of arguing about it. Besides, like Meme said, John was the one for me even if he did do stupid things now and then.

“I talked to some people from the lab today,” John continued, “they said that they found some blue fibers on the floor of the house where Victor was killed. It was just rough wood planks and these fibers got stuck to it. Alpaca.”

“Alpaca? What does that mean?”

“That’s what the fibers were made of. I have no idea how long they’ve been there, but it couldn’t be that long. The house is just going up. There aren’t even any walls yet, just the frame. It’s all open.”

“Maybe they blew there.”

“Off of a wandering blue alpaca?” John asked with a smile.

I poked him with my fork. “Or maybe they came from the owner of the house walking around and looking at things,” I suggested.

John divided the rest of the spare ribs between the two of us and put some Asian noodles on my plate. “Could be. I’ll have Jim go out tomorrow and talk to the construction crew and see if it rings a bell with anyone. So, tell me what you’ve been up to. With your sister involved in a roundabout way, I know you’re probably waist deep into your own investigation.”

“You think you know me so well.”

“I do. And that’s just one of the many, many reasons why you love me so much,” my husband said and then took a big bite out of a rib.

So I told John about my conversation with Mary McCarthy and Elizabeth Applegate, and about my visit to the Hachmeister home earlier in the day. And I told him about Suzette Cumberland and how she thought Gary and Victor were on the outs. And then I told him all about Gary and Victor’s dubious past and what they had been up to. And I told him about Maddi finding the diary and Jenna’s affair with Brian Jankowski. I concluded with Ruth and Delilah Sanjari and how upset they were at Victor and the way he left them nothing. What I didn’t tell him was that tomorrow morning Shirley and I were going to go have a talk with Kate Cavanaugh, and hopefully we would find out something about Michael’s whereabouts.

John helped me clean up after dinner, saying very little else about the case, and then we caught up on a couple of shows we like while we munched on cool watermelon and sipped herbal tea. About ten o’clock I was ready for bed and tonight I let John sleep back in our room.

I hadn’t seen my grandmother in a couple of days so I decided to go and have breakfast with her, but first stopped off at the bakery on Main Street and picked up some Danish full of almond paste, one of my favorites.

“I haven’t had their stuff in a long time. I forgot how good their Danish are,” Meme said, while we sat in her living room enjoying breakfast with one of her best friends, Theresa.

I licked icing from my fingers and grinned. “Well, enjoy because I don’t even want to know how many calories are in this. It’ll be another year before we have it again. What are you two up to so early in the morning?”

“Cards,” Theresa said. “Too humid to sleep, so I came over here. We were just about to start a game when you got here, but eating this Danish is a better idea.”

Where my grandmother was short and round, Theresa Calendrella was tall and thin as a reed. I’ll bet she could eat almond Danish all day, every day and never gain an ounce.

“Any news about Michael?” Meme asked. My grandmother was as easy going as it gets, but she hates seeing her granddaughters in any kind of stress.

“John took him out for a coffee yesterday and Michael assured him that he had nothing at all to do with Victor Sanjari’s death.”

“I know that, kiddo. Michael couldn’t hurt a fly. But what about him and Sam?”

I could see the worried look on Meme’s face. I really wanted to tell her about Kate Cavanaugh, but that would only upset her more.